


Consulting Work

by holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)



Series: It's Kinktober 2020, babes [4]
Category: Numb3rs (TV), Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Butt Plugs, Choking, Established Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits With Feelings, Jealousy, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Possessive Behavior, erotic asphyxiation, jbbkinktober2020, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26815090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys
Summary: Major Crimes gets a difficult sniper case, and Malcolm knows exactly who the FBI will be sending to help.---Kinktober Day 4: Choking
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Ian Edgerton
Series: It's Kinktober 2020, babes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948045
Comments: 13
Kudos: 36





	Consulting Work

When the case comes in, Malcolm immediately knows what the next day will be like. Major Crimes does pretty well in the NYPD, and their clear rate has only gone up since Gil started bringing him in to consult, but that doesn’t mean anything to the FBI — especially with a sniper on the streets of New York. They’ll insist on coming in. They’ll send their best. 

They’ll send Ian. 

Ian likes to work alone, for the most part. There’s only a handful of people he’d ever accept at his back for more than a mission or two, and he’ll certainly be stubborn about directing the case as soon as he arrives. Malcolm’s seen it happen several times during his time at the Bureau. First, it was mostly stories, seeing the fallout at the FBI. It always ended with the Bureau supporting him, however. He was one of their best, even if he could be a little arrogant sometimes. 

Eventually, they were pulled in on a case together. Ian was there to look at the angles, the trajectories. He knew how a sniper would think and react. Malcolm was there because their culprit was a serial sniper. Ian had already chased him through two separate cities by the time the Bureau managed to convince him to work with a profiler. Somehow, Malcolm impressed him, and, after they solved their case, he found himself being the go-to whenever Ian needed a second going forward. 

It didn’t bother Malcolm. He liked Ian’s company, liked the discussions they could get into, liked how he always seemed to know the best places to get takeout wherever they were. Ian listened to him just as he listened to Ian. He didn’t tell Malcolm he was crazy when he threw himself into their killer’s mind, didn’t watch him cautiously the way other agents did.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been too surprising when they ended up fucking against a motel wall a few cases in. Nothing about it was serious, not really. The last time they saw each other was two weeks before Malcolm was fired. Malcolm did send him a text after it happened to let him know. He never got a response back, but he never expected one — Ian was in the middle of a long case and on day four of radio silence at the time.

Malcolm bites his cheek as he looks at the pictures and notes up on the board. In a matter of days, he’ll be seeing him again. He’s sure of it.

Predictably, Ian is as aloof as can be as he strides into the precinct. He nods at an officer who directs him to Gil’s domain. 

Malcolm leans against the wall outside of their conference room, watching, waiting. His lips quirk up once Ian recognizes him. Maybe to anyone else, the shift wouldn’t be noticeable, but Malcolm can tell. He sees the subtle way Ian straightens up his already straight posture, sees the subtle uptick in his pace, the wild edge to his smirk. He’s seen it so many times before. Careful not to draw attention to himself, Malcolm shifts in an attempt to hide the way he’s suddenly half-hard. 

Ian sees through him, of course. His smirk widens as he comes to a stop in front of Malcolm. He reaches up and removes his sunglasses, tucking them into his jacket pocket. “Bright,” he says.

“Edgerton,” Malcolm returns. 

“I didn’t realize you were working with the NYPD.”

Malcolm snorts. They both know Ian knows he isn’t. Hell, Ian probably knows about everything after the mess that was the Watkins case. It’s highly unlikely Colette didn’t mention how Malcolm Bright fucked up her case despite being warned off, and gossip like that gets around the Bureau. “I’m consulting for Lieutenant Arroyo.”

“He know you used to consult for me?” There’s a calmness about him, as always, but the tone of his voice is too controlled, the intensity in his eyes too sharp.

It hits Malcolm then. Of course Ian was always prepared. He likely looked into the Major Crimes team on the trip over, and he must know exactly what — and _who_ — Gil looks like. Malcolm tilts his head. “No,” he says, amused. “And I don’t consult for him like _that_ , either.”

Ian smiles.

Oh, Malcolm is going to get _wrecked_ after this case.

Gil isn’t happy, exactly, with the idea that Malcolm’s going to get drinks with Ian alone, but they’re both well aware of how stubborn Malcolm can be. 

Not to mention that Gil is probably uncomfortably aware now of the nature of his old partnership with Ian. It was hard to be subtle when Malcolm was so used to being Ian&Malcolm in the field. They looked at each other. They moved together. And the touches? Oh, yeah, Ian could be quite tactile when they weren’t actively in the middle of chasing down a suspect.

There’s a knock at the door.

Malcolm opens it, already down to his slacks and dress shirt. 

Ian grins at him. “Malcolm,” he drawls. His eyes trace the bare skin of his neck. 

“Ian.” Stepping aside, Malcolm waves him in. “Whiskey?”

“Another time.” Ian scans his loft the way he always did their hotel rooms. He’s always on that way, always careful. He shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over a barstool. 

It’s good, then, that Malcolm is impatient tonight, too. The evidence of it is tucked right between his cheeks, soft silicone lubed and easing the way for what he’s been aching for since they first got their case. He deftly unbuttons his shirt, eyes locked with Ian’s. “Fine with me.”

“Leave it on,” Ian says, voice low, as he stalks forward.

They make it to the bed, somehow, though Malcolm realizes they’ve fallen on it sideways at some point, his head resting on the edge as Ian yanks his boxer briefs off and opens his own pants. 

( _Maybe_ they’ll finish removing their clothes for the second round.)

Ian chuckles as he finds the plug. “Eager as always.”

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” Malcolm says wryly. It’s a bit of a challenge.

And Ian doesn’t back down from challenges. He hikes Malcolm’s legs up and sinks in without another word, his smirk widening at the moan it nets him. 

It’s been months since Malcolm’s had that cock in his ass, and fuck if it doesn’t feel _amazing_. He tilts his head back, just along the beginning of the curve of the edge of the bed, just enough to lengthen his neck.

Like a moth drawn to a damn flame, Ian’s hand finds its rest there. His gun-calloused fingers curl around him. His thumb rubs at the sensitive skin right by his pulse. He snaps his hips to feel it jump. Leaning down, he kisses Malcolm roughly, all of the pent-up want and desperation and _longing_ of the time between them pouring out. 

“Ian,” Malcolm gasps. The thrum of his words is caught by the delicious pressure at his throat.

“I got you,” Ian tells him, fucking into him like they’re out of time. His grip tightens. 

Malcolm’s cock twitches against his stomach. He’s already sticky with precome. He reaches up and covers Ian’s hand with his own, pressing down with a whine. 

So Ian tightens his grip again. He knows just how much Malcolm can take, and tonight, he can see Malcolm wants to be taken to the edge of it. “Come for me,” he demands, squeezing just a touch more.

Malcolm’s eyes flutter shut as he does so and just in time, his come catching his chin and cheek all the while Ian continues to fuck him into the bed chasing after his own orgasm. 

He groans low and long when it does. He leans back on his heels so that he doesn’t crush Malcolm.

Malcolm, who looks up at him with a dopey smile, come still streaked up his face. “I think you need to visit New York more often,” he murmurs.

Running a gentle hand along his lover’s sore throat, Ian laughs. “Yeah, I think I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Kinktober! I'm planning on doing every prompt, so look out for more!
> 
> Prompt list I'm using can be found here: https://jbbuckybarnes.tumblr.com/post/627189398153363456/kinktober-2020


End file.
